


The Secret Garden

by evilgiraff



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilgiraff/pseuds/evilgiraff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Bella, Edward, and a garden</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, but these words are all mine.
> 
> This was my first foray into fanfiction, and my first piece of creative writing since my teenage poetry phase. Many thanks to the TSA (you know who you are) for suggesting Gardenward as a theme and being so encouraging.

**Bella**

I come to this place often. It is a quiet haven, hidden from the common paths, the crying hordes and the squalling children. I come, I drift through the leaves and the flowers, stroking a branch here, caressing a petal there. As I stroll I turn my face up to the sun and listen to the the birds singing out their joy. I feel the weight of the day lift from me, and I sink down on to the old bench, set back under a brick archway and half-hidden by a climbing rose. From here I am almost invisible to anyone else approaching, enclosed as I am by the protective curl of the bricks and the roses. I can see through the foliage, I can see the curve of the narrow path, the nearest edge of the pool, laden with lily pads, and the top of the venerable oak on the other side of the wall. I feel like this is my place, mine alone. There is no one in the world but me. I close my eyes, lean back on the lichen-encrusted back of the bench, and feel the dappled sunshine on my face. I have never seen anyone else pass through the door to my private heaven, they pass by quickly, never noticing the battered door, jammed ajar, never imagining the peaceful bliss within the walls that they hurry by on their way to tennis matches, rowing practice, business meetings and lectures given by tired old professors. This is my place, mine alone, and none shall approach.

Except this day I come down the path, I turn the corner, I face the door, and the door is shut. The door has never been shut. The door is not only shut, it is chained. There is a mound of earthy debris under the door; torn rudely from the resting place of ages, scraped free by the door which has not moved in years. The door has tried to resist, there is a pale gash shining clearly at the base, where the planking has broken away and exposed the entrails of the door. The scene looks like a ancient battlefield, strong men have been through, wrought destruction and now only broken remains are left for women to weep over. I stare at the door. I cannot comprehend why my haven has been so rudely closed against me, against itself.

I come and stare at the door the next day, and the next and the next. Nothing has changed, and everything has changed.

Many days have passed. I come down the path, I turn the corner, I face the door, and the door is shut. Nothing has changed, and everything has changed. Standing in front of the door is a tall figure. Long, graceful fingers are holding a key. He pushes the key into the lock, turns, and the chains rattle free and my door is released. He turns the handle and pushes the door gently inwards. He steps through, half turns, and beckons to me. I follow.

He closes the door. He glides down the path. I come behind; I drift through the leaves and the flowers, stroking a branch here, caressing a petal there. As I come I turn my face up to the sun and listen to the the birds singing out their joy. I feel the weight of the days without my haven lift from me, and I sink down on to the old bench beside my companion. He turns to me, he places a hand on my waist, and another behind my shoulders. He draws me to him and I am lost in his arms, his gaze. His lips feel soft against my own. I can feel the strength of him against me, and I cling to him, tight, tight. He moves to me, under me, into me. He moves, I move, he moves, I move. I can feel the dappled sunlight on my back and the lichen of the bench under my knees. I can feel the whole world wrapped around, around, under, over and within me. He holds me close and I kiss his eyelids.

This is our place, ours alone, and none shall approach.

* * *

**Edward**

Today I saw her again. Every day she comes to my garden and wanders through the leaves, stroking the plants like they were old friends. I suppose they are old friends now, she meets them every day. Today was different. Today she came to my garden and this time I was brave enough to walk the path towards her. Today she smiled at me. Today I smiled back, felt my heart soar and my stride lighten. Today I went home and my brother grinned. Jasper always seems to know what people are feeling. He hugged me and told me to do it again, whatever it was that made my face light up. Tomorrow I will smile at her again.

Today I was a jangle of nerves waiting for her. I sat on the bench and looked down the path for her. Today she came more quickly than usual; today she walked with more purpose. Today she brushed past her old friends with the briefest of caresses. Today she looked for me, saw me, smiled at me. Today I felt my answering grin transform my face as I looked at her. Today my eyes shone.

Today I saw her, and she me. Today I smiled at her and she beamed. Today we spoke. Careless greetings, inane commentary on the weather. It does not matter. Any and all speech is rendered beauteous as it passes her lips. I could gaze at her lips forever. Full round lips, in a porcelain face, deep brown eyes that capture my own. Today I go home with a snapshot of her face behind my eyes, the memory of her voice repeating itself over and over in my ears.

Today I can count her my acquaintance, my friend. Today we exchanged names. Today I heard her repeat my name back to me. Even "Edward" is transformed by her lips. Today I called up reserves of courage I did not know I had; today I pronounced her to be "bella, Bella", and she smiled, abashed. Today I returned her smile, knowing that the world knew her as beautiful as I knew her.

Today the world ended. Today she did not come. Today I sat on the bench and looked up the path and she did not come. Today I recalled every conversation, every word, every glance. Today I could not understand why she did not come. Why did she not come? Today I was frightened. Today I realised how much I wanted her presence, her voice, her smile. Today I was angry. Today I was relieved beyond all comprehension when she came at last to my garden, three hours later than usual, and smiled at me apologetically. Today I did not smile. Today I felt exposed, today I felt so vulnerable, that so small a thing could make me feel so. Today I vowed not to let that happen again. Today I waited for her to leave. Today I wrenched the old door closed, chained it shut and locked it tight. Today Jasper looked at me with worry in his eyes, held me in his arms, and let me cry upon his breast. He asked me if I was alright, if anything was wrong. I told him no, I was not alright, and everything was wrong.

Today, and today, and all the todays I did not go to my garden.

Today I told Jasper everything. He gave me that look, the one that makes me know I've done something stupid. He asked me why I had been frightened. I told him I had been angry, that she had not told me she would be late. He asked me why I had been frightened. I told him I had been relieved that she had eventually come. He asked me why I had been frightened. I told him I had been worried for her safety. I told him I had thought that our small friendship had meant nothing to her. I told him how my insides had ached and longed for her presence. I asked him why I had been frightened. He told me I loved her.

Today I went to my garden, the key to the padlock tight in my hand. I waited at the door until I heard her footsteps on the path. I turned to the lock and prayed she would not see my hands shaking. I opened the door and beckoned her in. She followed me through the door, down the path, past the old friends, to the bench, which was mine or hers, but never before ours. I sat on the bench and finally dared to look at her. She was smiling at me, so soft and gentle. I have never felt anything like it. I felt so, so grateful that she had come back, that she was here with me, that I had been brave enough to show myself to her. I clasped her to me as tight as I could and buried my face in her body. She stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. I looked up and pulled her down to me, kissing her face, her hands, her lips. I could feel her heartbeat quicken with mine. I kissed her jaw, her ear, her throat. I fumbled and pushed at her shirt and nibbled her collarbone. I kissed her breasts and stroked her back. She undid my shirt buttons slowly, slowly and kissed each newly exposed piece of my chest. I threw my head back and heaved great ragged breaths as she pushed off my jeans and settled her knees either side of my hips. She caressed me, held me, kissed me, and I kissed her wildly, clinging on to her. She pushed herself down on to me and I felt my hips jerk. We moved together, faster, faster, rocking and pushing and stroking and panting until I felt her clamp down and let go and fall forward to me, and ecstasy enveloped me so all I could do was hold on to her and rock blindly forward and back. I drew in deep shuddering breaths and smiled as she kissed my eyes.


End file.
